Tennihill watched Bob Fresno watch Jane. He sat on the porch of the cookhouse and whittled on a stick. From that vantage point he could see not only across to Kilkenny’s house, but down the street toward the saloon that had opened up after the burial and was doing a thriving business.
The men, having eaten before the women and children, were gathered in bunches, enjoying the free day.
Tennihill had noticed Fresno at the graveyard, standing off to the side staring at Kilkenny and Miss Love. At first he had thought it was Kilkenny who was the center of Fresno’s attention; then his sharp eyes discovered the man was in a state of discomfort due to the bulge that he soon covered with his hat.
If Tennihill had read the cards right, Miss Love was Kilkenny’s woman. He had known T.C. and Colin Tallman for a few years, having first met them at Trinity through Garrick Rowe. T.C. Kilkenny was not a man to fool with when it came to something that belonged to T.C. Kilkenny. If Fresno didn’t know that, he would soon find out.
This little by-play was amusing, a diversion from the reason Tennihill was here. He folded his pocketknife and put it in his pocket. It was time to mosey on up to the saloon and see what Milo Callahan was up to.
Jane thought it grossly unfair and terribly rude when the men came to the tables first. The women and children stood back and waited. The preacher seemed to think nothing of it. He was the first to fill his plate. Mrs. Gillis, the matron at the school, had been strict about proper etiquette and had insisted the children be taught manners. Jane tried to think of an excuse for this behavior and nothing came to mind except that, because the men were the providers, they had first choice. In Jane’s view, it was a very primitive custom.
The women from the henhouse were none too friendly with Jane. Not so the women from the cabins and homesteads. Word had spread about the sick children Jane had helped, and now all were anxious to know if she was staying until a new doctor arrived. The news had spread fast that she would be leaving. She supposed that anything vaguely connected to Kilkenny was of great interest. She could imagine what would happen if her secret were revealed. It would travel through the town like a wildfire, and T.C. would lose no time getting her to the train. She had no doubt that he would be decent enough to do that.
Jane tried to keep her eye on Paralee, Bessie and Minnie Perkins. They stuck together except when one of them had a chance to walk off with a man. Jane now believed none of the three knew her secret because they seemed to be unable to hold their tongues about any bit of gossip. That left Bertha Phillips and Grace Schwab as suspects.
Jane’s head began to ache with the nervous strain of keeping up appearances and not showing her worry. There were plenty of willing hands helping to clear the tables. Assuming she wouldn’t be missed, Jane went upstairs to the room she had shared with Polly.
She opened her valise and took stock of the contents. The blue dress she had worn when she arrived had been washed and ironed. She would save it for traveling. The drab brown dress would do for this evening. She changed clothes and, after carefully folding her good skirt and her shirtwaist, repacked her valise.
Standing beside the window, she looked down on the street and thought about Polly. She would be all right now. Herb would marry her. He was not much more than a boy, but with help from Colin and T.C. they would make out.
Polly had been disappointed that she and Jane could no longer stay here in T.C.’s house at night. Maude had invited the girl to live with her and Stella. Jane was hoping to spend the night with Sunday, who was staying at the boarding house. She had not yet asked her, but if that were not possible, she would go to the henhouse, even though the women she suspected of sending her the notes were there, and she’d not dare sleep.
Looking down the street, Jane saw T.C. talking to the lanky Mr. Tennihill. It was pure pleasure to look at T.C. He stood with one foot resting on the edge of the cookhouse porch, his forearm on his thigh. As she watched, he lifted his hand and tilted back his hat. He had a large frame, but life had given him a lean trimness. Hard work had built a powerful body with a vast supply of vitality. He was self-assured and confident. T.C. Kilkenny was comfortable with who he was: one-quarter English, one-quarter Blackfoot and one-half Irish. Had he been teasing her when he said T.C. stood for Thunder Cloud?
Jane’s eyes fastened on his face. If things had been different, she would have enjoyed the attention of such a man, even knowing his intentions were not serious. Jane believed herself to be level-headed. T.C.’s interest in her was not romantic. He wanted her to stay because she was a teacher, a nurse of sorts, an adequate letter writer and a bookkeeper. She was merely an asset to his town, and he was using his charm to keep her here.
Next spring his job would be done, and he and Colin would go to their ranch. Right now, getting this town on its feet was what was uppermost in his mind.
Summer was winding down and the days were getting shorter. The time between sundown and dark was especially short here in the mountains. The room was in a deep gloom when Jane turned from the window on hearing Polly call.
“Jane, are ya up here?”
“Yes, I’m getting ready to come down. Is Sunday still down there?”
“She went off somewhere with Colin. Ya know, I think he likes her. They always got their heads together talkin’.”
“I wanted to talk to her about my staying with her at the rooming house.”
“There ain’t no need for us to go now. Maude and Stella are comin’ to stay in Doc’s room so folks won’t talk. Maude already changed the bed.”
“When was this decided?”
“Maude said T.C. asked her ‘cause you feared we’d be talked about.”
“I’m glad for you, Polly. I know you wanted to stay.”
“Maude and Stella are tickled. Stella is gettin’ to where she ain’t so bashful no more.” Polly began fumbling in her pocket. “Maude found this on the table under a butter crock.
She says it’s got your name on it.” Polly giggled. “We think ya got a feller and he’s bashful.” As Jane accepted the folded paper, she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “He’d better watch out for T.C.,” Polly added. “Maude thinks T.C. likes ya. Really likes ya.”
“Maude is as wrong as wrong can be.” Jane shoved the note down in her pocket with a shaking hand. “I’ll read this later.”
“I’m goin’ for a walk with Herb. I come to get my shawl. Ya’ll be here when I get back?”
“I’ll be here or over at the henhouse.”
“Oh, Jane. Be here. Please be here.”
“We’ll see. Run along and have a good time with Herb.”
“He is so nice. I ain’t never met nobody as kind as Herb. I just never thought anybody like him would like me.”
“Why not? You’re sweet and pretty—”
“But, you know… the other. Do you think he knows about that?”
“I’m sure he does. Some men would hold that against you, but not Herb.”
“Oh I hope yo’re right.”
“I’m sure I am. Now run along.”
Jane was afraid she’d burst into tears before Polly got out of the room. She hurried to the table and struck a match to light the lamp. In the flickering light she took the note from her pocket. This one was different. The paper had been folded. To keep it closed, two little tears had been made on three sides. The paper between the tears was folded down. Her name was on the outside fold. Jane held it in her hands, dreading to open it, and was tempted to hold it to the flame in the lamp and destroy it. Unaware that she was holding her breath, she separated the folds to read the message. The frightening words jumped out at her.
stay here
or I kill yu
Her eyes blurred as she read, She could almost feel the hatred directed toward her. As if destroying her peace of mind and threatening to humiliate her were not enough, her enemy was ready to kill.
Jane unfastened the safety pin on the pocket where she kept the notes and slipped the new one in alon
gside the others. She blew out the lamp, sank down on the edge of the bed and tried to think. This message put a whole new light on things. Neither of the women she suspected of sending the notes seemed capable of murdering anyone, though both had vicious tongues.
One of the men must be behind this. But which one?
Bob Fresno had offered to take her to the train. Had he plans to get her out of Timbertown, then to kill her? She’d never leave town with him. Besides, his willingness to take her away ran contrary to the words “stay here” in the note. The man called Milo could be the one. She had judged him to be a shallow, mean man, but would he make a plan and carry it out in secret. No, he would want credit for it.
She was not sure if one of the two Mexican men who had come to the station with Patrice Guzman Cabeza had traveled on to Timbertown. One had ridden away; she was sure of that. A Mexican would have no interest in her, she reasoned. Or would he? Her secret shame concerned a deed that had touched the lives of almost everyone in the Western territories.
Jane tried to remember the other men who had been at the stage station. Most of them had been looking for work. Some were family men, hoping to bring their families after they were settled. She hadn’t paid enough attention to any of them even to remember who was there. And several men had arrived that day on horseback. She must not forget about them.
The hands she pressed to her cheeks were cold and clammy. One thought was clear. Someone wanted her to stay here to continue the tormenting until the appropriate time came to expose her and to enjoy her humiliation.
Dear God, she was tired of this black cloud hanging over her head.
The room was in darkness. Jane heard activity downstairs: the sound of the door closing followed by heavy footsteps on the porch. T.C. was leaving the house. Herb was with Polly and Colin with Sunday.
The sensible thing to do would be to stay here for the night. Tomorrow, if T.C. refused to honor his promise to take her to the stage station, she would ask Mr. Tennihill. If it came down to having to tell someone why she must go, she would rather confide in a stranger. She did not think… no she was sure that she would not be able to bear the look of contempt on T.C.’s face when he heard who she was.
Having made her decision, she decided the best way to avoid T.C. was to go to bed. But first she had to use the outhouse. She took her nightdress out of her valise and placed it on the foot of the bed and left the room.
A wall lamp lit the lower hallway. As Jane reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard footsteps on the porch, Stella giggling and then Maude’s calm voice. The door opened before she could flee. Maude and Stella came in carrying bags and several heavy books.
“Set them down before you drop them,” Maude told her daughter. Then she saw Jane. “Feeling better, Jane?”
“Not much. I’ll be going to bed soon.”
“Mr. Kilkenny gave Stella some map books to look at. Did you know he’s been ever’where?”
“I know very little about Mr. Kilkenny.”
“We didn’t know we’d be here and Stella took them to the rooming house. She’s excited and going to want to look at them tonight. We’ll be quiet.”
“Don’t worry about bothering me.” Jane said, thinking of the years she’d slept in the same room with ten or twelve girls.
When Maude and Stella began the struggle to get their belongings up the stairs, Jane escaped to the kitchen and on out the back door to the porch. The air was cool; the sky was alight with a million stars, some so bright it appeared that a person could almost reach out and touch them. Jane stood for a long moment, her face tilted to the sky, and hugged herself with her arms.
Doc, are you up there? I wish you could tell me what to do. Why didn’t I ask you on one of those nights when it seemed that you and I were the only people in the whole world? I should have trusted you. If there was anyone who would have understood—it Was you.
A shout of laughter from the street brought back to mind her original intent to do the necessary and get back to the room. She stepped off the porch and hurried down the path to the privy.
When she reached the outhouse, she turned the small swivel board that kept the door closed. Inside she secured it by looping a leather strap with a slit in the end over a peg. The privy was a sturdy structure with a floor, a feature that some thought unnecessary. The wood on the seat was smooth and she had no trouble finding the opening in the dark.
Anxious to get back into the house and into bed before T.C. returned, Jane completed what needed to be done. She would have a clearer head in the morning and would be more able to cope with his persuasive tactics, she reasoned as she adjusted her clothing and opened the door. She pushed it outward, stepped out into the starlit night and turned to close it.
The blow came without warning. An agony of pain shot through her head like a fiery bolt. Brightly colored stars flashed before her eyes and she felt herself pitch forward. Vaguely she knew she was falling toward the open door of the privy. Then blackness closed in.
Polly walked beside Herb to the knoll where only this morning they had buried Doc. They stood silently beside the fresh grave. Herb’s arm moved around her waist and pulled her close to his side. It was quiet and dark. Polly snuggled close to him. The feeling of being cared for was so new, it made her almost giddy.
“Ya liked him a lot, didn’t ya?”
“Yeah. Doc was all right.”
“Did ya know what all he’d done in the war?”
“I knowed he was in it. Sometimes he had nightmares about what all he’d done. He didn’t do a lot of drinkin’ till lately. When he was real drunk, he lived it again.”
“Jane said he knew he was goin’ to die and was tryin’ to get it over.”
“It’s what he’d do. I ain’t knowin’ where I’d be or what I’d be doin’ if it warn’t for Doc. Probably dead, or crippled up by some back-shooter.”
“He thought a heap of ya, Herb. Ya could just tell it.”
“I’m goin’ to miss him. He wasn’t always as cantankerous as he was at the last. Miss Jane knew how to handle him. He liked her ‘cause she stood up to him. I… couldn’t do it him bein’ sick and all.”
“At the last ya did. Jane said so. He’d a killed hisself if ya hadn’t took care of him.”
“Maybe I ought to a let him. He’d not a suffered so much.” They moved on around to the other side of the grave.
“I’m goin’ to get him one of them great big stones with his name on it. I’m goin’ to have ‘Little Doc’ put on it too. Then I’ll put a fence around here. Maybe an iron one like I saw in Denver.”
“This whole hilltop should be cleaned off. This is a pretty place.”
“I’ll do that too. I ain’t forgettin’ Doc.”
“Of course not. But after a while it won’t hurt so much.”
“How are ya knowin’ that?”
“My maw died, then my paw. I thought I’d cry my eyes out at first. But a body’s got to live on and make the best of it.”
“Yo’re awful smart Polly.”
“I ain’t half as smart as ya are.”
“Bullfoot! I can do one thing real good and that’s all.”
“That’s not so—”
He turned her around with his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her face.
“The thing I’m best at doin’ is pullin’ my gun, shootin’ and hittin’ what I shoot at.”
“That’s a good thin’ to be good at.”
“I got me a gun. Stole it off a old drunk who’d kicked me outta the livery. I pert nigh froze to death that night. I told myself it’d not happen again and it didn’t. I practiced and practiced. I just got tired of eatin’ ever’body’s dirt, gettin’ called a stray, a woods-colt, a good-for-nothin’ clabber-head. I was big, even as a kid. But I warn’t a man yet.” He said this in a rush, as if he were in a hurry to get it out.
“Ah, Herb. Ya’ve had it rougher’n me. How old was ya when ya decided all this?”
“I was about ten or tw
elve. I can’t even swear how old I am if ya get right down to it. Nobody ever told me. When I first met Doc, he thought I was fourteen or fifteen. I took that to be my age. I’m twenty now.”
“Ya’ve done good, Herb. Ya raised yoreself till ya met Doc.”
“I couldn’t write my name. Doc said I had to if I was goin’ to trail with him. I did it. Did it damn quick. I didn’t want to lose Doc.”
She laughed. “I betcha ya can do anythin’ ya set yore mind to.”
“Polly? Doc told me to settle down, get a wife and a bunch a young ‘uns. I told him I was goin’ to ask ya… if ya’d have me.”
She stood silently with bowed head.
“Polly?” He lifted her chin with shaking fingers. “Don’t ya want to?”
Her big eyes filled with tears. She tried to speak and choked back a sob. Then tried again.
“Do… ya know?”
“About what was done to ya? Miss Jane told me ‘cause she wanted me to look out for ya after she goes.”
“Ya know I’m… I’m… goin’ to have—?”
“I know it,” he said quickly. “If I ever set eyes on who done it, I’ll kill him.”
“Oh, no… no. Please—”
Herb drew in a deep breath. “Ya like him?
“I despise him! He’s mean. I’m afraid he’ll hurt you.” Herb’s arms moved around her, and he hugged her to him.
“The only way he’d hurt me is to shoot me in the back.” He chuckled.
“Don’t ya dare laugh about such a thin’.”
“Polly… little Polly. I been thinkin’ ‘bout ya since that first day. Yo’re so pretty.” He touched her temples with his fingertips. “Yore hair is soft. I like it when ya let the braid hang down yore back. Yore eyes are pretty, too. I just can’t keep myself from lookin’ at ya. Polly,” he whispered, his palms on her cheeks holding her face up to his, “Do ya think ya could put up with me?”
“What about… it?”
“The babe? Don’t ya think I’d make a good papa?”
The Listening Sky Page 19